


Childhood Memories and Bedtime Stories

by Anonymous



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Childhood Memories, Gen, Light Angst, Marvel Movieverse Prompt Meme fill, Peter's grandpa told him about Steve, Prompt Fill, and now Peter meets his hero, not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's been thirty years since Peter's been on Earth, but he still remembers what his grandfather told him about Captain America.





	Childhood Memories and Bedtime Stories

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [SilentSilhouette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentSilhouette/pseuds/SilentSilhouette) in the [marvel_movieverse](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/marvel_movieverse) collection. 



> **Prompt**  
>  Star-Lord meets Captain America for the first time - and squeals.
> 
> (I figure since Cap pre-dates Star-Lord by about ~30(?) years, he'd have grown up hearing at least some of his exploits while he was a kid on Earth.)

_Missouri_

“Dad, can you read Peter a bedtime story tonight?”

It’s a painful request, but Jim sees it coming from a mile away. Meredith hasn’t been getting any better for months and since she went to see the city doctor two days ago, she’s only gone downhill.

“Of course,” he says, the words rough with unspoken sadness. “C’mon Pete, let’s go.”

Peter shakes his head from where he’s sitting on the floor. “I want Mom to,” he says firmly.

“Peter, baby, I can’t. Not tonight.” Meredith says, reaching down to run her hand over Peter’s head.

 Jim can tell it hurts her – everything hurts her these days – and holds out a hand. “What if I told you a war story?” he offers to sweeten the deal.

“A _war_ story?” Peter looks between him and Meredith. She never lets him listen to them normally, and he knows it.

“Go on baby,” she encourages him. “Just for tonight.”

It won’t be _just for tonight,_ and Jim knows it just as much as she does, but Peter believes it for now and that’s all that matters. Peter says good night, hugging Meredith hard enough that she gasps a little with pain, and then follows his grandfather upstairs for bedtime.

“Which story are you going to tell?” he asks, once his teeth are brushed and he’s been tucked into bed.

Jim runs through his experiences in the war, trying to find an age-appropriate story to tell. His daughter may be sick, but she still won’t stand for Peter hearing about adult things just yet. Settling on one episode that seems fairly innocuous, Jim settles himself on the end of Peter’s bed and clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you,” he begins, “about Captain America?”

  


_New York_

Peter’s standing at the microwave, trying to figure out which button will heat up his food properly without sending it up in flames, when a familiar face steps through the kitchen door.

He’s never seen Captain America in person, but he was able to form an image from his grandfather’s trading cards that turned out to be pretty accurate when he found some trading cards in an Astranian junk shop.

The superhero turns out to look nearly identical to his trading card, except for the outfit. Standing in the Stark Tower kitchen in khakis and a polo shirt, hair slightly damp from a shower, he looks strangely normal. “Hi,” he says, holding out a hand. “Tony told me we had guests.”

Peter stares for a moment before shaking the offered hand. “You’re Captain America.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but standing right in front of him is his grandfather’s stories come to life and he can’t think of anything else.

“You can call me Steve,” the superhero says, looking the smallest bit taken aback. Letting go of Peter’s hand, he sets down the grocery bags he’s carrying on the dining room table. “Jarvis, can you tell Bruce I found the green tea he wanted?”

Peter moves back towards the microwave while Captain America – _Steve_ – starts putting away groceries. It’s an everyday task that seems ridiculously out of place in a place like this and Peter’s having trouble aligning his childhood image of the hero on his trading cards with the figure in the Tower kitchen.

“I have your trading cards,” he blurts out. “I got them for half-price from an Astranian. He didn’t understand why I wanted them but I told him my grandpa used to tell me stories about you when I was a kid.”

Steve stops and turns to look at him, holding a jar of peanut butter. “Your grandfather?” he says.

“Yeah,” Peter shrugs, giving up on the microwave and turning around completely. “He was a World War II vet, y’know. He really looked up to you.”

Steve nods, passing the peanut butter from one hand to the other. “I didn’t really do much, you know,” he says finally. “I was just good PR. All the other soldiers were heroes just as much as I was.” His face is honest and raw as he looks at the floor. “They’re the ones who should be remembered,” he says quietly.

Peter recognizes the expression on the other man’s face. It’s the way he and the other Guardians felt after battling Ronan, when Saal and the other Nova Corps officers died, when Yondu’s Ravagers had to count bodies of their own casualties. “I know,” he says, not sure what else to offer.

“What’s his name?” Steve asks. “Your grandfather, I mean.”

Peter searches his memory. Meredith was his mother’s name, and her dad was named – “Jim,” he says after a moment, glad to remember. “Jim Quill.”

Steve nods, the silence thick between them. He finishes putting away the groceries and Peter goes back to figuring out the microwave. After re-reading all the buttons, he presses the one labeled simply _Leftovers,_ and the quiet hum fills up the empty space. It beeps when it’s done, and he takes it out, swearing under his breath at the steam that billows into his face.

“So, what’d you hear about me?” Steve asks, stepping up beside him and starting a cup of coffee in the complicated-looking coffee maker.

“What d’you want to hear?” Peter asks, sitting at the kitchen table.

A minute later, Steve sits down across him with his mug. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggests.

**Author's Note:**

> There's no actual squealing (sorry!) and it got a little sad, but hopefully it's still good! This was a really fun one to write, so thanks for suggesting it!


End file.
